


Smoke & Mirrors

by solynacea



Category: Hunter X Hunter, 七つの大罪 - 鈴木央 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins - Suzuki Nakaba (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Job, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Frottage, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knife Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solynacea/pseuds/solynacea
Summary: My entries for Kinktober 2019; all will feature my original character, Moth, and the different men she's paired with in bothNanatsu no TaizaiandHunter x Hunter. The themes for each day come fromthis 2019 list, and the prompt is selected fromthis listbylickitysplitficon Tumblr.WARNING: Because of the nature of Kinktober, each chapter will be NSFW, and some of them will contain themes such as bondage and/or dubious consent. I will do my best to list any and all potential triggers at the beginning, but please let me know if I missed one.





	1. Pain & Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 1:** Spanking  
**Prompt:** "Get down and stay down."  
**Fandom:** Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Estarossa/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** M  
**Warning:** Slight dubcon.

Moth’s heart pounds as she kneels on the floor, her hands placed on her thighs and her eyes on the ground. Three days. That is the longest she had managed to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself, and then one of the visiting dignitaries had insinuated that her people were little more than whores who didn’t get paid for their services to the nobility of the Demon Clan and she had lost her temper, along with any good graces she had earned from Estarossa. Even now, thinking of how his smile had gone cold and sharp as he offered his apologies to the dignitary before pulling her from the grand hall makes her shiver, and her hands tremble as she listens to the sounds of water running in the washroom. What will he do to her? The thought of her last punishment leaves a bitter taste in her mouth; what more could he possibly take from her?

“Get down and stay down,” he’d said sharply as he shoved her to floor, and she had obeyed. So when the door opens and she hears him step out, she prays that perhaps he will be lenient.

But he does not acknowledge her at all. He walks across the room, and then papers rustle as he shifts through them, reading over whatever documents the servants had delivered while they were away. Moth tries to regulate her breathing, hating the sweat that drips down her brow and wishing she could wipe it away but not daring to move even an inch for fear of what he might do in response. A glass clinks and liquid is poured, and the settee creaks as he settles onto it; then she hears him swallow and sigh deeply, her ears pricked for every slight sound he makes. 

“I should kill you,” he says pleasantly, almost as if he is talking to himself. “Not only did you insult one of my father’s guests, but you insulted _ him, _as well. Your mother is young and could replace you if needed. So tell me, little moth, why should I let you live after you tried so hard to bring your death?” She does not answer, and he nearly growls, “Speak.”

She scrambles for a response. “I did not mean to cause offense,” she whispers. “Hearing my people spoken ill of made me angry, and I —”

Estarossa sets his glass down with a thud that makes her wince. “So I should spare you because you were upset by the truth? You must try harder than that, I’m afraid.” He pauses, and she tastes iron as she waits for him to either allow her to defend herself or strike her down. “I suppose I should consider this a fault in my training,” he muses. “Perhaps I have been too gentle with you, and you have simply grown comfortable with the notion that you are allowed to say what you please without repercussion.” Then he laughs. “Come here, little moth, and we will see if this was merely an honest mistake on your part.”

Knowing that she is not allowed to stand unless told, she rests her weight on her hands and knees and crawls, trying to put some sort of seductive sway to her hips even though it makes her feel ridiculous. “Good,” he murmurs when she reaches him. His fingers curl under her chin, forcing her to look up into his smiling face. His eyes are still cold, and she holds her breath as he studies her thoughtfully, turning her head from side to side. “It would be such a shame to kill something so lovely,” he chuckles.

She bites back a whimper when he grabs her arms and pulls her up, but does not protest at all when he drapes her over his lap. His thighs press uncomfortably against her stomach even as he grips the back of her neck to hold her face into the cushions, her knees bent and pressed against the arm of the settee; Estarossa strokes the curve of her rear with his palm in what is almost a caress, then he places a box on the small of her back. She feels it open, hears his hum as he picks something out of it before knocking it carelessly to the floor, and when something cold and round presses between her legs, it takes everything within her not to squirm. The first ball slips within her core, rubbing her walls uncomfortably because it is so _ large__,_ then the second, the third, the fourth, on and on until she stops counting. He does not stop until she is twitching because she is full and it nearly hurts, and the way he tugs the attached string has her fingers digging into the cushions. 

“Do not move,” Estarossa warns her, “and do not speak. You are allowed, however, to make whichever noises you please, and I expect that you will. After all,” his finger dips to nudge her clit, making her gasp, “this is your punishment.”

The first strike catches her off guard, and she yelps. It stings, and it jolts her so the balls within her jostle and massage her walls, and when he rubs the mark he’s no doubt left behind, his thumb pressing against the seam of her body makes her whimper. Moth has just started to relax when he smacks her again, in the same place, then again, and again, and again, until her skin is red and tender and, to her mortification, her arousal slips along her thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and she flushes at it and hates it at the same time. “You might actually convince me that you regret what you did.” She bites her lip as he strokes along her spine; one of his hands slides between her legs to tug teasingly at the string while he slaps her backside with the other, and only his arm braced over her thighs keeps her from twisting, craving more of the friction in her core.

He continues spanking her until her flesh and her throat feel raw, and she feels his erection push against her stomach through his trousers as he murmurs little taunts and half-praises. Tears stain her cheeks by the time he begins to slow his strikes, spending more time stroking her skin than hitting it, and her humiliation is complete when he tugs the first ball from her body, laughing when she moans. They are pulled out with agonizing leisure, the odd sensation feeding into her arousal so she thinks she might come from it. “Little moth,” he whispers, and she goes still as she listens, “you’ve done well.” Then he yanks the rest out in one motion, and she cries out as her orgasm rips through her, strong and overwhelming yet disappointing because there is nothing else, no other stimulation, her core clenching around nothing as she whimpers and shakes.

As she begins to settle, she hears Estarossa sigh. “I didn’t say you could come. I suppose you’ll need more punishment, won’t you?” His palm smooths over her backside, and Moth closes her eyes as his fingers dip between her legs to tease her aching clit. “This time, I want you to count out loud.”


	2. Eyes & Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 2:** Voyeurism  
**Prompt:** "Do as you're told."  
**Fandom:** Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Mael/Moth (OC), Mael/Goddess Elizabeth, Ludoshel/Goddess Elizabeth, Ludoshel/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** Explicit  
**Warning:** None

Jealousy is a dangerous thing. Moth knows this well; she lives at the pinnacle of her mother’s court, where so much as a sly whisper can feed into discord, breeding chaos in its wake as nobles vie for power and the queen’s favor. That is why she has done her best to keep envy from clouding her thoughts, always trying to shift it into admiration so it does not fester. Yet as a goddess whose name she does not know climbs over Mael, as he laughs and presses his lips to her neck that is not hers, as hands that are not her own slide between his thighs to stroke along his rigid length, she finds that she must look away and swallow the bile that rises in her throat. This  _ ceremony,  _ if it can even be called such, is incredibly important to him and to his clan, meant to ensure its future and bring blessings to its people, and she had accepted his invitation, foolishly believing that witnessing it would make the knowledge that he would give himself to others easier to bear. 

If anything, it is making it worse, and the sounds that surround her, quiet moans and playful squeals and flesh on flesh, do nothing to settle her nerves.  _ An orgy,  _ she thinks furiously.  _ It could have been a dinner or a dance or something with magic, but it had to be a gods-damned orgy, didn’t it?  _ To make matters even harder for her, Elizabeth is there, and a quiet anticipation of the Supreme Deity’s daughter and the strongest Archangel coupling runs through the air, carried on whispers of those who are lounging to catch their breath before rejoining the fray. 

Her hands clench into fists when the goddess on Mael’s lap sinks to her knees, and his eyes find hers when the goddess parts her lips to swallow his length.  _ Do as you were told,  _ he mouths, and she clenches her jaw. What had she been told? That she couldn’t participate because she is not one of them, that she must sit quietly on these plush cushions, dressed in sheer silk so she is not out of place, that no matter what she cannot go to him, or touch him, or so much as speak to him. She is only here to observe, a courtesy begrudgingly granted to avoid causing offense to her mother; despite the arousal he had no doubt hoped she feel — perhaps he had thought the sight of him in ecstasy would make her amorous later, when they are alone — all that festers within her is discomfort and something that is near disgust.

Almost as if to mock her, Elizabeth appears, walking slowly over to Mael, her nipples flushed and peaked and slick, her lips kiss-swollen and her thighs glistening, and Moth glances over to find Ludoshel watching his princess as Nerobasta clambers to fill the place she’s just vacated, his cock wet with her arousal. The room falls into a thick silence as Elizabeth’s hips sway, the eagerness on Mael’s face as the goddess between his thighs slides away so he can reach for her like a knife twisting in Moth’s chest. Has he ever looked at her like that? Like she was everything he ever wanted, like she was beautiful? Once again, the notion that she has only ever been a hollow replacement for the one he cannot have settles in her mind, and she cannot look away, filled with a sick fascination as Elizabeth presses her hands on his shoulders and coaxes him into a kiss.

_ That should be me.  _ Mael pulls her closer, his hands gripping her full backside and kneading her flesh.  _ I should be the one he’s with.  _ Elizabeth lets out a breathless moan as she pulls away from his mouth and tangles her fingers in his hair to guide him to her chest.  _ This is wrong.  _ “Princess,” a voice purrs in her ear, and Moth jumps when Ludoshel settles onto the cushion behind her, grabbing her waist to tug her flush against him as he rests his chin on her shoulder. “I hope you are enjoying the festivities.”

Beneath his voice is a knife’s edge that is always present when he speaks to her. She tries to ignore it, but it stings because she is raw from being here, from watching Mael take his pleasure from others, and her throat goes painfully tight as Mael’s hand presses between Elizabeth’s legs and the princess rocks into his touch. From here, Moth cannot see what he’s doing, yet she knows. He will tease her clit until the pearl is swollen and slick and pulsing before pressing his fingers within her body, stroking her to the point of madness so she is needy and wanton is his grasp. “It’s educational,” she manages at last, and Ludoshel laughs quietly in her ear.

He cups her breasts, his thumbs caressing her nipples through the silk, and she freezes. Isn’t this taboo? “I have always wondered what my brother sees in you,” he murmurs, his words sliding over her like oil. “Perhaps it is how . . . obedient you are. Did he tell you that you could not join us?” Weakly, she nods, and he sighs with a click of his tongue. “He lied, I’m afraid. Though I’m not surprised. He has always loved Elizabeth, and he would not risk you interfering in his chance to be with her at last.”

Her heart drops, unwanted tears blurring her vision. Deep down, she knows he is lying. He must be; Mael has never been cruel, and surely he wouldn’t deceive her just to have sex with Elizabeth. Would he? Yet as she watches the eager way he draws her onto his lap, sees the adoration on his face, she wonders if Ludoshel is telling the truth. Mael looks at her over Elizabeth’s shoulder, his eyes flashing as he takes in his brother curled over her with his hands squeezing her idly, and the brief spark of fury there should soothe her. But it only makes her anxious. Is he angry with her for disobeying, or Ludoshel for touching her? Elizabeth draws his gaze back to her, and his head falls back with a groan when she sinks onto his cock. Pinned in place by her doubt and Ludoshel’s hands on her, Moth can only watch, and as Ludoshel slowly drags her skirt up her thighs she closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see Mael.

“Allow me to soothe you,” he says smoothly, and, slowly, she nods.


	3. Blood & Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 3:** Knife Play  
**Prompt:** "Careful, or they'll see."  
**Fandom:** Hunter x Hunter  
**Pairing:** Hisoka/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Warnings:** Knife play, some blood, slight dubcon.

_ They really should pick better music,  _ Moth muses. The dainty, cheerful instrumental piping through the elevator’s speakers is entirely at odds with the nature of Heavens Arena, and, after a day spent watching contenders beat each other into either submission or death, almost jarring, and she knows from experience that it is grating and unpleasant after partaking in battles personally. 

There is nothing to do as they climb slowly higher; her phone is in her room, and her eyes slide between the numbers counting the floors they pass and the attendant standing by the panel. When they stop, she frowns, and her irritation deepens when the doors slide open to admit the last person she wants to see. Hisoka steps in, his hair nearly neon-bright under the harsh fluorescents, his eyes calculating and his smile sharp as he moves to stand next to her, their shoulders brushing as he gives the attendant his floor number. Her fingers twitch as he grazes them with his own, and Moth is keenly aware of his gaze on her, the predatory way he watches her from the corner of his eye. It doesn’t make her shiver — she’s far too hardened for that — but it does fill her with a resigned sort of disquiet. He’s made it clear that he wishes to fight her, or fuck her if she will not join him in the arena. And she’s not particularly fond of either option.

They ride in uneasy silence for several floors, then his hand presses against the small of her back and she glances at him with quiet reproach. But he ignores her, humming as he flicks between cards with the fingers not currently creeping under the edge of her leggings, and she grits her teeth and tries to step away. Hisoka grips her hip, tugging her to his side, and the sight of them in the glossy metal of the doors looks almost cozy.  _ Almost,  _ save for the danger crackling through his aura, and the bead of sweat that rolls down the attendant’s neck is echoed in the ones that dot the hollow of her throat. “Quit it,” she hisses.

He smiles down at her, his brow arched. “Come now, we both know such a little thing is no issue for you.” The hand on her hip drags lower, splaying over the curve of her rear, and she scowls when he slides two fingers between her thighs to press against her sex. 

“Hisoka,” she growls. The attendant makes an uncomfortable noise, and she reaches back to grip Hisoka’s wrist and pull his hand away from her body. “Careful, or they’ll see.” When he cocks his head, she jerks her chin to the camera mounted in the corner and the attendant who is quite obviously trying not to look at them. “If you’re going to be an ass, at least do it privately.”

“Is that an invitation?” he purrs, and she debates the merits of punching him.

“If you like,” she replies shortly.

His anticipation crackles along her skin. For him, sexual lust and bloodlust are intrinsically linked, and the sensation of both coiling around her is annoying at best and unpleasant at worst. Moth does not have to look at him to know that he is watching her like a hawk, that his expression is set into one of dangerous amusement, or that he presses his fingers to his lips. She can read all of that and more in the shift of his aura in the air, the way it thickens until, if she were anyone else, it would be almost impossible to breathe. They reach 220 without any more roaming hands, and she tips the attendant more than usual just for the hassle of dealing with Hisoka’s antics. The door to her apartment is at the end of the hall, privacy she had specifically requested, yet before she can insert the key card to enter, Hisoka catches her by the waist and presses her forward, pinning her to the wood. Moth waits patiently to see what he’s planning to do, yet he merely slips the key from her fingers and unlocks the door himself before pushing her inside. It is pleasantly cool inside, the city lights below filling the room with a soft glow.

It would be romantic if she were with anyone else.

“Well now,” he says pleasantly, “this is cozy.”

Moth huffs, trying to ignore the flicker of amusement at his nonchalance. “Aren’t you on this floor, too?”

“Mm, one below, I’m afraid. Although, if we were to fight . . .”

“No.”

Hisoka chuckles, his fingers pulling her hair over her shoulder. “How cold.” He moves in front of her, and she’s forced to tilt her head back to look at him because he’s so ungodly tall. “Allow me to warm you up.” She nearly snorts at that, but then she catches sight of the card held delicately between his index and middle finger and there’s a sudden, unwelcome jolt of fear. “Hold still, now. I’d  _ hate  _ to leave a scar.”

His hand flicks out, and there’s a subtle, whispering noise as the card slices through the front of her shirt, a thin line of red stinging on her skin as the edge grazes her between her breasts. Hisoka’s eyes fall to the blood beading on her skin, going sharp and heated as he licks his lips; in a motion that’s almost loving, he presses the fabric from her shoulders, and Moth lets it fall to the floor, ignoring the irritation at needlessly losing a shirt that she quite liked. When he kneels, she holds her breath, because this time his draws the card much more slowly, up her legs, and she feels the faint rush of air as he uses it to cut through the cloth covering her sex so he can pull it away. Despite how still she remains, he still cuts her thigh, and she bites her lip to muffle a moan when he seals his lips over the wound and sucks, teasing it with his tongue. The card is a silent threat that taps against her stomach as he lavishes her skin, keeping her from pressing toward or away from the ticklish sensation. 

“Delicious,” he purrs, leaning up to nuzzle her stomach.

“Are you going to do anything or talk me to death?” she deadpans, and he grins as he drags the card over her hip, opening a small wound there that he watches eagerly.

“Don’t worry,” he says teasingly. “I intend to drink my fill of you. After all, the night is so very,  _ very _ young.”


	4. Dusk & Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 4:** Cunnilingus  
**Prompt:** "You're going to regret asking for that."  
**Fandom:** Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Mael/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** Explicit  
**Warnings:** Some mild dubcon if you squint.

Having an Archangel squirming beneath her foot is more intoxicating than Moth ever imagined it would be. She had tracked her prey for  _ days,  _ carefully masking her presence as she learned his daily routine, when he rose in the mornings, how long he spent dining with his soldiers, his patrol routes and the waxing and waning of his power. The other three of the Supreme Deity’s chosen are threats, to be sure, but this one is the most dangerous of all, his already innate talent bolstered by a magic that makes him nigh invincible during the day, which is why she had been sent to observe and report back anything that might help her clan remove him from the war. Attacking him had been forbidden, but with the mockery of those who thought she’d fucked her way to the top wounding her pride, Moth had decided that if she could take care of him on her own, she would finally earn the respect she was due as second-in-command of the Demon King’s armies. That is why she had stalked him through the trees, waiting until the sun began to set and he made the winding trek to the river to bathe to strike.

As his eyes blaze up at her furiously, she cocks her head with a smile and presses down on his throat. “Poor little thing,” she croons. “Didn’t your parents warn you about the dangers lurking in the dark?” He tries to yank himself from the ground, and the magic she’s woven around his limbs tightens in response as she tsks. “That won’t help. I’ve learned quite a bit about you this past month. Did you really think I would face you alone if I was unprepared?”

He lets out a choked growl; curious, she moves her foot to rest it on his chest, and he draws in a deep breath before hissing, “Face me? You’ve skulked about and ambushed me like a coward.”

“And you slaughter civilians and reap the rewards of that.” She keeps her voice taunting and light, ignoring the sting that she should not feel at his words. “Is it more cowardly to fight to your strength or to murder innocent women and children? Even when given the chance to fight  _ fairly, _ you turn and run away because you cannot bear the thought that you are weaker than Meliodas.” He bares his teeth and she laughs. “Did you think I didn’t notice how quickly you turned tail whenever he arrived?”

“Let me up,” he snarls, “and we’ll see which of us is weak.”

Moth considers that. She could, she supposes; his base strength might be greater than hers, but she knows she is faster, which would leave them evenly matched now that the sun is gone and he cannot draw on that. But there is no guarantee that he will face her one-on-one should she grant his demand, and the thought of facing his battalion is, while thrilling, utter nonsense since she has the upper hand. Why sacrifice that? To soothe  _ his  _ pride? Slowly, she kneels, reaching out to curl her fingers around his throat and relishing in how his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. She could choke the life out of him, or carve out his heart, or take his head and give it to the king as a gift. And yet . . . There’s an odd twinge at the thought of killing him. Not discomfort, exactly, but rather the notion that he is lovely and destroying that without enjoying it first would be a waste. It’s not uncommon for demons to take goddesses as lovers, after all, particularly as a spoil of war, and her lips curl into a grin as she comes to a decision.

“Oh, goddess,” she croons, and Mael stills at the purr within her voice, “you’re going to regret asking for that.”

Keeping the one hand around his neck, she uses the other to begin unfastening the buttons of his tunic. He lets out a string of curses rather unbefitting of an Archangel as she parts the fabric to reveal the broad expanse of her chest, and she drinks in the sight of him greedily, the muscle heaving as he tries to break free of her bonds. “Get off,” he snarls, and she pauses, frowning for a moment.

“I intend to,” she answers blankly. “Did you think I was going to kill you?”

He gapes at her, and it’s comical to watch him swing between rage to confusion and back again. “I would never,” he says harshly, “give  _ any  _ sort of pleasure to a creature like you.”

“Oh, shut up. Actually . . .”She braces her hands on his shoulders and leans over him, her hair a curtain that frames their faces. “If you insist on repeatedly opening that mouth of yours, I can think of much better uses for it.”

Moth watches understanding dawn on his face; to her surprise, he merely presses his lips together and scowls up at her, his body settling instead of fighting. “That’s all you’re after?” he scoffs. “So you’re a whore and a coward. How typical of a de . . . What the hell are you doing?”

The darkness she wears instead of clothes peels away from her body, exposing her skin to the evening chilled air, and she bites back a grin when his eyes dip blatantly to take her in before he looks away, his cheeks flushing. That small slip in his ire is all she needs to know that, in some way, his protests are merely fulfilling the role expected of him, and a thrill slides up her spine as she cups his cheek and forces his face towards hers. “We both know that your life is mine, goddess. I have no intention of ending it, which leaves us with two options: a scenario that ends pleasantly enough for us both, or one where I leave you with the knowledge that you owe me a debt. Your choice.”

He clenches his jaw, staring at her furiously. “Get it over with, then,” he snaps.

“Gladly,” she purrs.

She climbs up to straddle his face, weaving her fingers through his hair to tug his head back so his mouth presses to her bare sex. His eyes blaze up at her, and she can almost read his desire to break free and tear her apart within them, yet he parts his lips so his breath grazes her folds, and she shivers involuntarily. He is not her first partner, but he  _ is  _ the first that she has truly anticipated, and whether that is because she has spent so long learning his routine or because he is beautiful or some odd combination of the two, she cannot say. So when his tongue presses against her slit, drawing a slow stripe along it, she lets her head fall back and closes her eyes, sinking into the sensation. Mael licks her lazily, never dipping within her folds, and Moth allows this until the heat simmering in her veins becomes tinged with impatient frustration; then she yanks his hair, peering down at him with a huff. 

He stares back for a moment before closing his eyes, and she moans as his tongue slides between her folds. She reaches down to part them, exposing her clit, and he turns his attention there, rubbing against the bud with the tip of his tongue, tracing nonsense patterns that leave her breathless, straining not to rock her hips. This is a battle of a different sort, one of wills that she is determined to win, which is why when he suctions his lips around her pearl she nearly hates the way her back arches, pleasure humming electric-sharp up her spine. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Mael dips down to trace over her entrance, pressing his tongue within to massage her walls before he trails it back up to flick against her clit. Slowly, the desire begins to overtake her determination; her grip on his hair loosens to become guiding instead of forceful, her hips roll to grind against his face, but it’s not only her. He goes from lazy to eager, all but devouring her as he kisses her body deeply, and it’s not long before she feels the tightening in her core that signifies her release is near. When it crashes over her, she lets it drown out everything else, letting out a cry as she presses back against his mouth as his tongue thrusts into her as if to drink her arousal, the slick sensation of it rubbing against her sending her contractions spiraling into waves that overwhelm her. 

Finally it recedes, and she braces her weight on her forearms as he kisses her thighs. “Well now,” she rasps out, “I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?” Mael gives a noise of surprise as she turns to slide down his body, her fingers dipping beneath his trousers and delight thrumming through her at the tent in the fabric over his crotch. “After all, you did so well . . .”


	5. Distance & Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 5:** Frottage  
**Prompt:** "Don't keep me waiting any longer."  
**Fandom:** Hunter x Hunter  
**Pairing:** Kite/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:** None  
**Co-writer:** lickitysplit

Moth sits at the bar, nursing her drink and trying to ignore the people around her. She knows why she wanted a drink — selling herself to potential clients is always a hassle, because to them she’s just another pretty face hiding an empty head — but why she thought going to a bar in the middle of the city on a Saturday night, or why she thought she would be able to sit in blissful silence in one, is beyond her. But here she is, sipping from a double shot of gin and waiting for a text from the agency that had advertised a bit of extra work for remarkably good pay. Her phone, however, has remained stubbornly silent since her arrival, and she glances at it to see nothing still, muttering, “Assholes,” beneath her breath as she decides to just go. She doesn’t need the money, not with the credit line for licensed Hunters, but the job of escorting some yuppie to a resort for a meeting seemed easy enough, even appealing considering she’d be at the beach on her client’s dime. And with Ging gone to fuck-knows-where and Kite off interning with some conservation group in a rainforest, she’d been incredibly, awfully bored.

A group jostles her, and she shoots them a dirty look, ignoring their quick apologies as she finishes the last of her drink. Then a voice slurs, “Hey,” and she closes her eyes and clenches her jaw as the fool who made the very, _ very _bad choice to talk to her continues, “you drinking alone?”

She is turning to rip into him when her eyes connect with a familiar hazel gaze across the bar, tucked beneath a blue cap and above a sly grin, and her heart does a little flip as Kite raises his glass in a silent toast. Ignoring the half-drunk, half-indignant protests of the jackass wearing too much cologne, she presses away from the wood and makes her way around the counter, noting in an absent-minded way how people subconsciously shift away from as though she’s something dangerous. _ Meteor City Perfume, _ she’d joked once, but there must be something in her aura or her looks or how she holds herself that makes others think she’s something to avoid. The only person who ever moves _ towards _her is Kite, and she feels the worst of the tension drain from her shoulders as she slips into the stool next to him, pleased in a way she can’t explain to find a glass of her favorite beer waiting for her.

“Asshole,” she says by way of greeting. “How long have you been here?”

He peers at her from above his glass with a fond look. “No more than twenty minutes.” When she sputters indignantly, he laughs and sets his drink down so he can pull her into a loose, one-armed embrace. “You always get the jump on me. I thought it was only fair to turn the tables on you at least once.”

“How did you even know I was here?” she protests.

“Did you forget that I’m a Hunter?” he replies.

Moth laughs and shakes her head. Her pocket buzzes, and with a sigh she pulls out her phone and sees a text from the agency: _ Position accepted. Meet client at the Sun Hotel at 22:00 hours. _

That’s less than two hours away, and she looks sideways at Kite, who raises his brows. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just, uh . . . just work.” Quickly, she takes a gulp of the beer, not missing the brief frown that marrs his features. “I thought you were going to be gone for at least another two weeks.”

“We finished early. Although they want to go back out Monday, hit another part of the forest. I’m not sure if this environmental stuff is for me, but it’s interesting enough.” He leans his elbow on the counter and gives her a grin. “So, I’ll be around for a few days. Think I can stay with you?”

“I can give you the keys to my motel room, but I won’t be there.” His brows furrow, and she lets out a nervous laugh. “New job, escorting a client, bodyguard duties, the usual. Employment is until further notice, so I probably won’t be back for a week, if not longer.”

“Oh well,” he sighs. “I was hoping we could hang out for a bit.”

He goes back to his drink, and Moth looks at her phone, debating whether or not she should decline the job. She hasn’t seen Kite in so long, has missed him terribly, and who knows when they’ll run into each other again? But if she turns this down, the agency will bump her from the list, which means she will miss more work. “You could come with me,” she says thoughtfully. “We’re going to some island resort. A few days at the beach, drinking cocktails with umbrellas. What do you think?”

With a chuckle, he replies, “I’m not much for sand. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a bikini.”

“I’m sure we’ll be near a forest or cave or something for you to explore and occupy yourself with.” She tilts towards him, resting her chin on his shoulder and fluttering her lashes. “Twenty-four seven access to me in a bikini, or naked, free alcohol, good food, and you can do what you please since you won’t be under a contract.”

“Moth,” he laughs, “are you flirting with me?”

She shrugs, a tremble passing through her when he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek. “Do you want me to be?”

Usually, he would deliver a snappy, playful comeback that would send her into a fit of giggles, but his eyes narrow instead. “Doesn’t seem to be your style,” he replies quietly.

There’s a world of hurt in his voice, and she’s not dumb enough to not know why. And there’s a part of her, small and irrational and prone to childish dreams, that wants to reach out and pull his face to hers, tell him that all she needs is for him to come with her so she can curl up with him at night and listen to the waves roll against the shore. _ You’ll only break his heart. _ Ging’s warning echoes in her ears, and she pulls away from Kite with a sigh, snagging her glass and draining it in one go. _ Not to be, _ she thinks dully, _ not for me. _Suddenly the bar seems to hot, too loud and too crowded, and Moth decides that it’s time for her to leave before the unspoken words between them turn into something as sharp and lethal as a knife’s edge.

“Thanks for the drink,” she tells him. “Next time, text me when you’re done with work. It’ll make planning to meet up easier.”

She places her glass on the counter and is turning when his hand lands firmly on her hip. She pauses, feeling him shift in her direction, and when she glances over her shoulder she sees him steadily drinking the rest of his beer. He drops his glass on the counter when he’s done and glances at her from the corner of his eye. “How soon do you leave?”

Moth swallows dryly. “About ninety minutes.”

“Plenty of time,” he says. Then he turns in his stool and tugs her forward and places his mouth over hers.

At once the taste of beer fills her mouth when he sucks on her lip; she opens for him immediately, and his tongue slides between her lips. Then there is more of the alcohol as he licks into her mouth, and she rolls her tongue with his before sucking on it slowly. His free hand grabs her other hip, holding her tightly to him, his legs spread a bit to allow her to stand between and press right up against him. Moth slides her arms around his neck and buries her fingers in his hair, noting absentmindedly that it’s the longest it’s been in a while, pulling on it gently so he tilts his head and she can kiss him deeply. They’ve barely touched and already she can feel his arousal in the length that begins to stiffen against her thigh, mirrored by the liquid heat that throbs dully between her legs. It’s more intoxicating than the alcohol, and as she thinks of kneeling between his legs or straddling his face and leaning over to taste his skin, she shivers. 

As his hands shift to cup her rear, she slips one of her own between them to slide it under the waistband of his pants, and he groans as he breaks the kiss to press his mouth hotly against her neck. “Here, Moth?”

“Don’t keep me waiting any longer,” she whispers.

One of the hands on her backside slides under the hem of her shirt. “We’re going to get kicked out,” he laughs.

“I’d like to see them try.” Her head falls to the side as his mouth trails down her throat, and she rubs the heel of her hand against his growing erection. Moth savors his breathy groan on her neck, shivering as his fingers graze the underside of her breasts. “Kite,” she breathes, “I lo —”

“What the hell are you two doing over there?!”

She freezes, yanking her hand from his pants as the bartender stalks towards them with a scowl twisting his already ugly features; yet Kite does not let go of her, simply lifting his head enough to look over her shoulder. “What do you want?” he asks coldly.

“You can’t do that shit in here,” the bartender hisses. “Now take your whore —”

“Watch it,” Kite snaps, jumping to his feet. His arm stays around her waist as he holds her against him, and Moth looks up at him in surprise. Usually it’s _ her _ that takes the lead, _ she’s _the one who tells a bartender to get bent. But his tone and scowl are so unexpected that she gives no resistance when he pulls her behind him and towards the door.

Outside, the air changes. The streetlamps wash everything in a hazy, orange glow as people crowd the streets, moving from one bar to another and filling the evening with drunken, happy chatter. Kite’s hand is firm on hers, tugging her around the groups milling on the sidewalk and around a corner, the buzzing of her phone in her pocket ignored as she tries to keep up with his brisk pace. It’s not until they step between two buildings, barely an alley between a bar and a club, that he stops to press her against the brick and her kiss her again. His hands grab her thighs, and she needs no urging to brace herself on his shoulders to wrap her legs around his hips, letting out a breathless little laugh that he swallows when he pins her there. He kisses her hard, stealing her breath as he begins grinding against her. Moth holds onto him tightly, hooking her ankles to lock herself around his body; she can feel the hard outline of his erection between her legs and through her thin pants, and she tilts her hips to position the hard length where she needs the pressure.

“Fuck, Moth, I need you.” His groan sets her blood on fire. She grips the back of his head to roll her tongue in his mouth, arching against him as best as she can as he thrusts between her legs. It reminds her of when they were teenagers, the frantic sessions while Ging was asleep or off doing something, when it was just the two of them experimenting with hands and mouths and having fun.

Except they aren’t sixteen anymore, and Moth now has an hour to get to her assignment, and they are in a half-lit alley where anyone could walk in and see how he’s pushed up her shirt to reveal her chest. Her warning is drowned out by another kiss, and when Kite’s hard cock hits a spot that has her squealing it is muffled by the dull beat of the music from the building next door. “Kite,” she hisses, and he grunts as he mouths at her neck, the scrape of his teeth over her skin sending a shock of pleasure through her. “Someone is going to see us — _ fuck!” _

He grins at her, giving her nipple another teasing pinch through her bra. “No one is going to see us fuck.”

She gives a breathless laugh as she yanks on his hair, pulling his head back so he is forced to look at her. “What has gotten into you?” The look he gives her sends a shiver down her spine. His hooded eyes are filled with lust, and greed, and a desire that borders on dangerous. It almost reminds her of Hisoka, and her fingers clench in an involuntary reaction. “Kite?”

“Can’t I miss you?” he murmurs. His eyes drag over her face and down to her chest. “I missed you. I missed this.”

This, whatever _ this _is. It’s not what she wants, but, like Ging always said, beggars can’t be choosers. “Okay,” she whispers.

Her pocket buzzes again, but his mouth is covering hers and he is slowly grinding his hips against her in a way that makes her dizzy. Even through their clothes, it is good, more than good, and having him here, however unexpected, has her nerves sparking and a pulsing ache brewing between her legs. She wishes she could feel him skin-to-skin, that they were somewhere where she could wrap her hand around his cock and guide it towards her sex, to feel the head of him parting her lips and filling her the way only he ever could. But the minutes are ticking by, so she kisses him back with a frantic passions and chases the sensation of the fabric rubbing against her clit. He lets out a wild groan that makes the hair on her arms stand on end, his hips taking on a battering rhythm, and she presses her face to his neck to muffle her own cries as her release tears through her, sharp and quick and so unlike the usual, gentle sensations he draws from her.

They are gasping and clinging to one another as Kite slowly lowers her legs to the ground. He braces his weight on the wall as she keeps herself upright by clinging to him, and she looks up as he looks down and he kisses her slowly, her heart still pounding. Her phone buzzes, three times in a row, and he breaks away with a sigh. “Bikini, huh?” he says.

Moth nods as she swallows. “Cocktails with umbrellas.”

“Send me a picture, hm?” he asks, pushing off the wall to stand on his own.

“Yeah,” she replies, watching him adjust his pants and smooth his shirt over them to cover the wet front. “No problem.”

He takes her hand and pulls her back into the street, hailing a cab for her easily with his height. As he opens the door, he leans in to kiss her cheek, and she closes her eyes to savor the scent and feel of him. “I’ll call first next time,” he murmurs. Moth nods, not trusting her voice, and slides into the seat. Kite gives her a final smile before shutting the door, and she sinks into the cushion as the cab takes off and heads through the crowd.


	6. Hunt & Reward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 6:** Blow Job  
**Prompt:** "That's it, nice and slow."  
**Fandom:**Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Mael/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** Explicit  
**Warnings:** None  
**Co-writer:** lickitysplit

As noon passes and the sun ticks slowly from the apex of its cradle, Mael emerges from his tent. He peers thoughtfully at the skies above, wondering in an idle way why he had not been sent out, as was the usual, to attempt to locate and kill any demons strong enough to be deemed a threat. Not that it matters; his mind is far more preoccupied with other matters, namely a certain demoness. He should have been furious after what she did to him, yet he has found himself admiring her cunning and thinking about her more and more as the days wear on. He breathes in the warm spring air, his mind drifting to being beneath her, her hand at his throat as she taunted him. The memory stings his pride, to be certain, but it also fills him with an unmistakable want, and that is the sole reason he had ordered his troops to bring him any intel regarding Moth and her whereabouts. Which is why, when Jelamet appears before him, her wings flared and her eyes bright, he hopes against all odds that she brings the news he has been waiting for.

“Lord Mael,” she greets, her voice pleased beneath the brusque facade. “A soldier in my squad reported seeing a female demon fitting the description you gave leaving a human settlement earlier this morning. Her bearing was north northwest, towards the coast.”

“How long ago?” he asks, and her back straightens as she thinks.

“Two hours. Shall I rally the others?”

He shakes his head, his feathers rustling with the itch to fly, to _ hunt. _“No. To my understanding, this demon is second in command to that wretched Meliodas. Sending all of our forces at it without knowing what it may be capable of is foolish.” Mael gives the pretense of deep thought, though his mind was made up days ago and his heart trembles with anticipation. “I will go, to see for myself.”

“Mael.” Jelamet’s hand on his arm makes him pause, as well as her daring to be so familiar. “May I come with you?”

The plea in her expression, which normally would soften him, instead annoys him. “No,” he says, pulling away. “Stay here.”

He takes to the sky, the wind feeling wonderful as his wings stretch, and his powers fan out in the direction he was told. After a half hour of searching, he touches something that makes his skin feel oily, his eyes narrowing at the sensation even as he maneuvers towards it. _ Demons. _ He pulls his presence back so he does not give away his location; his prey is cunning, and too fast for her own good, and his cock twitches with the memory of being on his knees, and then his back, as she taunted and teased him with her body. He unconsciously grabs himself in response, his mouth quirking up in a little smile as he thinks of her lovely curves and the savory taste of her sex. Even though he hadn’t _ wanted _her to ride his face, he had enjoyed it, and briefly he toys with the idea of sampling her once again, this time at his leisure, with her pinned beneath him.

Revenge is on his mind as he weaves through the hills, hunting the demon. It is definitely her, the signature taste of her magic just as potent on his tongue as it had been when she came in his mouth, and his body stiffens even further with the thought. She had left him tied in the dirt with a face covered in her arousal and a raging erection, and he had spent every night since tossing and turning, lust raging hotly in his veins until he stroked himself to release, only to then dream about her as he slept. _ One more chance, _he thinks. One opportunity for a little payback, and then she will be out of his system and he can return to his duties as an Archangel free of thoughts he should not have, desire he should not feel.

Up ahead, her presence halts, and he does the same, hovering in the air thoughtfully as he waits. He feels the slow descent of the sun in his bones, like a small itch just out of reach, and despite knowing that he has hours left before he will be expected back at camp, his fingers twitch with impatience. Why has she stopped? He can sense no one else, and there is no flare or shift to indicate that she is preparing for a fight, so Mael waits through several agonizingly slow moments until he decides that she is not laying a trap and resumes his hunt. His jaw clenches when he catches sight of a river running through the forest, not unlike the one he had visited when she ambushed him. Her magic is there, just below; is she taunting him? If so, she will regret it, and he cloaks his presence as he lands, moving carefully through the brush until he can clearly see the water and the bank, his eyes scanning his surroundings in search of her.

Instead of sand or grass, large, smooth stones stretch as far as he can see, and he recognizes them as markers for a place where the currents are slow enough that it is safe to bathe. There are no clothes that he can see, but that does not surprise him, because he remembers clearly the way her magic had peeled away from her body to reveal the soft, pale skin beneath. The sound of splashing draws his gaze back to the river in time to see her emerge, pressing her wet hair back from her face, which she tilts towards the sun. Mael lets his eyes drag along her slender curves, debating how he will repay her for her stunt, and his lips curl as a particularly appealing idea emerges. Before he can act on it, however, he will need to wait for her to come closer to him. There is too little shelter between him and the river for him to be certain he can grab her if she spots him, so he settles against the trunk of the tree, his body stilling in preparation to strike when the opportunity arises.

He hears Moth humming to herself as she moves closer, and he tenses, ready to spring. Just a little farther and she will be his, and he can sink into her just as he has been craving, and maybe get a taste of her again . . .

“You’re not very subtle, pervert,” she calls over her shoulder. Their eyes connect as she looks directly at him; with a grunt, he allows himself to fall from the tree, landing easily on the ground. “Are you stalking me now?”

Mael growls. “I’ve come for what you owe me.”

Her brow quirks as she moves towards him, and he steps out into the water to meet her. The demon does not bother to cover herself, a blessed distraction that he curses. “What do I owe you?” she laughs.

He smirks, dragging his eyes over her form. “I want that pretty mouth of yours around my cock.”

At that, she tilts her head, a smile dusting her lips. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

“You’ve lost your advantages, I’m afraid.” Slowly, he reaches up to unfasten the collar of his tunic, thrilled when her eyes dip to study the flesh he exposes. “You have not managed to surprise me, or bind me, and dusk is still very far off.”

She actually laughs, as though he is not reminding her of her shortcomings. “I never said I expected to win, did I? Only that you must catch me if you want . . . What was it? Ah, yes.” Moth presses her fingers to her lips with a wicked grin. “This pretty mouth of mine around your cock.”

He strides forward, irritation simmering beneath his skin, and growls when she slides back until the water covers her chest, her eyes glittering with mirth. “Don’t test me, demon.”

She splashes him with a great spray, and the chase is on. Surprisingly, she manages to stay out of his reach for several minutes, and then he dives underwater and grabs her by the ankle to yank her under. She is sputtering when he heaves her against him and above the surface, and she actually pouts when she puts her arms around his neck. “You don’t play fair. Since when are goddesses good at _ swimming?” _

Mael snarls as he hauls her up to the shore. The moment they hit the mossy bank, he is on top of her, his hands roaming her curves as he kisses her neck, his fingers finding her hard nipples and tugging. Moth lets out a moan, arching into his touch, her own hands squeezing the muscles of his back greedily, and he pinches the tender flesh to hear that noise again, because it is more seductive than it has any right to be. She gasps, her nails biting into his skin, and he groans as he drags his tongue along her chest, lapping at her breasts until she is squirming before trailing open-mouthed kisses down her stomach to settle between her legs, where he can finally press his mouth against her bare, slick sex. It is odd compared to the soft down members that his clan sport, but the lack of anything allows him to see how her folds glisten, and he kisses the smooth skin greedily.

Moth opens for him eagerly as she pants. “I thought . . . I thought it was supposed to be my turn . . .”

He huffs, parting her folds to find her pulsing clit and lavishing it with his tongue, relishing in the sharp way she cries out and catches his hair in her fist. She tastes clean and sweet and wild, like the air before a summer storm, and he drinks from her deeply, holding her thighs up and back to keep her exposed to him. His cock is straining, nearly pulsing under his clothing, as he fucks her with his tongue, pressing it within her entrance to rub along her walls before swirling over her pearl, but he pays it no attention until she lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re even better than before, goddess,” she taunts.

Mael pulls away from her with a grin, ignoring her protests and how she reaches for him as he stands and slides his sodden trousers down his hips. He had been so caught up in his desires that he’d almost forgotten _ why _he wanted to catch her so badly in the first place, and he gives his aching length a squeeze as he considers how best to get what he wants. Goddesses cannot bind the way demons can — not without scarring their target in the process —and the idea of hurting her is surprisingly unappealing. Yet he has no guarantee that she will not dart away again and leave him aching; can he trust her to stay? The thought nearly draws a chuckle from him. Demons cannot be trusted.

“Demon,” he says sharply, and she arches a brow. “Do not make me hunt you again.”

Slowly, Moth pushes up, arching her back as she leans on her hands, her legs still spread wide with her knees up and open. “I thought you liked hunting me.”

The little pout she gives, matched with the fire in her eyes, makes him bite back a groan. “Come here and give me my reward.”

Her eyes drag down to his cock, and Mael strokes himself leisurely. He watches as her brow quirks, and then she licks her lips, which nearly makes him come right there. “Are you sure this isn’t my reward?” She locks eyes with him and offers a sultry smile. “You look good enough to eat.” He narrows his eyes, and with a quiet laugh she rocks up onto her knees, kneeling prettily in front of him. There’s still a mischievous cast to her expression, and eagerness, and when he grips the back of her to pull her forward, she doesn’t resist. Yet she doesn’t part her lips, either, turning her head so his cock grazes her cheek and she press a hot kiss to his thigh. “Do you really want me to use my mouth?” she teases. “I’m sure it would be far more satisfying to do this properly.”

“I don’t fuck demons,” Mael says, his voice rasping as she mouths along the base of his cock. “This will do fine.”

Moth looks up as she drags her tongue along the underside, allowing the length to balance on her lips when she reaches the head. Why does she insist on looking at him like this, so intensely? It makes his knees weak, like she is enjoying this too much, and as much as he wants to wipe her coy smile off of her face, he has to admit how _ hot _it is. She rolls her tongue around the head before using her lips to push back his foreskin. The flesh is flushed and wet with arousal, and again she uses only her lips to work around the sensitive tip, forcing him to hold the base so it remains steady. Her hands stay on the ground so she is on all fours, and the sight of her like that, so submissive, her ass in the air and her eyes watching every reaction on his face has his sac tightening already. He breathes in shallowly, wanting to savor this a bit longer so he does not make a fool of himself by coming before she even gets started.

She rubs the slit with her tongue, letting out a purr that he feels more than he hears, and he bites back a low curse, the fingers in her hair curling into a fist. He does not fuck demons, or he has not, but he cannot help but wonder what it would be like to accept her offer, what it would feel like to sink into her body and hear her cry out for him. The thought leaves him panting, and the demon in front of him grins before shifting forward to swallow his length. Mael does not recognize the noise that leaves him as his cock slides into her throat. Her eyes never leave his and her smile never wavers as she takes him in, stopping as she moves to simply swallow around him, and his cock twitches when he feels the tight pressure squeezing him, and it takes a great deal of willpower to resist the urge to thrust his hips forward.

Moth sets a pace that is leisurely and slow and torturously wonderful. He does little more than hold her so she cannot pull away from him entirely, clenching his jaw to keep the pulsing tightness within him at bay. She had started this game, but he will be damned if she wins it, and he counts the freckles on her nose to distract himself so he does not come down her throat. “That’s it,” he groans, “nice and slow.”

She moans around him, moving her head to bob up and down his length. Her tongue swirls around the head with each pass and flickers against a spot where the base connects to his sac when he is deep in her throat. He watches, captivated as her cheeks hollow slightly when she sucks on him, and his arms begin to shake with the effort of holding back just a little longer, her pace slow and deliberate. Then she freezes, her eyes widening, and his own heart jolts at the sensation of something dark and cold moving closer. It’s still far off, miles away, but there is only one creature he knows of whose power is as potent as this, strong enough to rival his own, and the instinct to _ fight _ rears up within him. _ Meliodas. _Yet equally as captivating is the sudden shift between him and the demon on her knees, and he laughs almost cruelly as he thrusts forward to fill her mouth.

“Are you afraid, little demon?” he taunts her, and she places her hands on his thighs. “Don’t want _ him _to see you like this?”

Moth slides her mouth from him, the stiff length remaining pressed on her lips as she says, “Not at all. I just wonder if I’ll still get to taste your come when he cuts off your head.”

“Maybe I’ll take his,” he bites back, and her eyes flash in a way that makes his skin crawl with anticipation.

Then she leans forward, sucking his cock in earnest, and he shouts and pulls harshly on her hair, her own hand gripping his backside as they nearly grapple for control. Her mouth is so _ tight, _hot and wet around him, her lips soft and her tongue massaging the underside of his length, and he curses as he wonders where his resolve went as his knees tremble. “Bitch,” he hisses, and her eyes narrow.

Then she laughs, drawing away from his cock to stroke it with her hand, hard and firm. “Here I thought you were falling in love with me.”

“Use your mouth,” he orders.

She grins as she dips her head, pressing her tongue beneath his cock. She begins to lap at the flesh hanging below, carefully pressing her lips against the sac in a messy kiss, still pumping her hand quickly. The silky pressure against his sac and the steady quickness of her hand prove to be too much for him; with a growl that sounds feral in his ears, he knocks her fingers away to grip his cock, stroking it at a punishing pace and ignoring her startled yelp when he yanks her head back so the white ropes of his seed fall across her face and chest. It’s indecent, _ depraved, _and he relishes in it, in the release that fills his veins with liquid heat and the startled lust on her face and the power he holds over her in that moment. When the shocks begin to subside, he presses his fingers into her mouth, pleased when she cleans them without complaint before leaning in to lap the last beads of his release from the tip of his cock.

“Good,” he praises roughly. “It’s time you knew your place.”

“Mm,” she says, whether in agreement or just in reaction to the taste of his seed he does not know. But then she slides her mouth over his too sensitive cock and starts to suck him again in earnest, and he pulls her to her feet with a snarl, pinning her arms to her sides so she cannot touch him as he glares down at her.

She doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest, merely tilting her head with a sly smile, and that nearly infuriates him. “Tonight, when you are alone,” he says harshly, and her brow arches, “I want you to remember that I could have killed you, and did not. I want you to remember being on your knees for me with my cock in your mouth and the knowledge that I can take what I want from you when I want it.”

“Oh?” She leans up as if to kiss him, and he smiles coldly.

“My reward,” he murmurs, “is knowing that you will _ ache _for my touch, even though you cannot have it.”

“Is that so?” Moth grins at him, rolling her tongue over her lips as she looks at him through her lashes. “Are you sure you don’t want to taste my cunt again? You were so _ eager _only minutes ago. I’d be happy to ride your tongue again, any time that I want.” Then her eyes dart to the side. “Of course, I understand that you can’t let anyone know how much you crave me now.”

Instead of replying, he releases her, lazily dressing himself as his magic heats and dries his clothes. She is frowning when he faces her again, and he grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, smearing his seed into her cheek. “You might want to bathe,” he tells her, wrinkling his nose. “Unless, of course, you want Meliodas to find you like this.”

He expects her to laugh, maybe tease him, but her eyes narrow. “You think I give a shit what Meliodas thinks? _ You’re _ the one running away because your precious cock was tainted by a demon.” Then she steps closer until her body is pressed against his. “Remember _ that _ when you’re jerking off tonight, and make sure you say my name . . . _ lover.” _

They stare at each other, the air between them charged and electric and tinged with an unspoken threat of violence, until she grins and goes up on her toes to kiss him soundly. Mael jerks away, her laughter ringing in his ears as he spreads his wings and takes to the skies. He is not running from _ her, _ he tells himself, it is only that he is not in a position to face Meliodas on his own, yet part of him stings. _ She _ should be the one who feels this turmoil, not him. _ She _ started this, _ she _ refused to accept her place beneath him, and _ she _should be the one left craving what she cannot have. Growling, he sets his course for his battalion’s camp, swearing that the next time he sees her he will make her regret hunting him.


	7. Reunion & Oil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 7:** Aphrodisiacs  
**Prompt:** "You like this, don't you?"  
**Fandom:** Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Estarossa/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:**None  
**Co-writer:** lickitysplit

The moment the council is dismissed, Moth nearly darts from the room, only the reproachful gaze of her mother keeping her from moving faster than a quick, elegant walk. Estarossa had been called away the previous week to deal with some sort of political unrest in his father’s court, and she had received a message from one of the servants that he had returned and would be waiting in their quarters, resting from his travels, if she needed him for anything. And she does. She has missed him terribly, his murmured comments and teasing touches distractions she didn’t realize she craved until they were no longer there, and she finds that she must force herself not to run as she climbs the stairs and navigates the winding halls. Later, she will ask her mother to be excused from the rest of the evening’s duties; for now, she focuses on breathing steadily, not wanting so much as a hair to be out of place when she sees her lover once more. His power radiates lazily from their rooms, almost as a greeting. _ Hello, _ it seems to say, _ I know you’re there. _

But she doesn’t see him when she bursts through the door, a fact that has her pulling up short with a frown. “Rossa?” she calls nervously, and her shoulders sag when she hears him in the washroom. She kicks off her shoes as she crosses to the door, and on the other side she finds him leaning over the basin, carefully shaving his neck. He grins at her in the mirror, his wild hair and dark eyes so achingly familiar that she can only watch him, and when he rinses the suds from his skin and turns to face her, she lets her eyes drag along his shoulders and chest, taking him in. To her surprise, he lets her have this moment; it is rare for him to be so patient after being gone, their reunions flaring hot and passionate until they collapse into bed, where his tenderness comes to the surface. Yet he does little other than push his hair out of his eyes, watching her silently until she takes a step forward. Then he grabs her, tugging her against him and pressing his face to the top of her head. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” she breathes. Her hands rest between his shoulder blades as she rubs her cheek against his chest. “How was your trip?”

“Dull,” he replies. “Some noble got it in his head that he was worth more than he was given and tried to get the court to support his claims. I took care of it.”

She shivers as he kisses under her ear, wondering how exactly he _ took care _of the poor soul. His gentleness with her now is such a contrast to the dangerous soldier he was raised to be, and it is something she is still adjusting to. Very few in the Witch Clan could match his power, save perhaps herself, but, despite her training with the Wolves, she has never been one to enjoy killing and does not know which of them would win should they fight. Pushing that out of her mind, she wraps her arms around his waist and sighs. He continues peppering her neck with kisses, and she bites her lip in anticipation. Next he will seal his mouth over hers, his hands will roam her body, and she wonders if they’ll have time for sex before she is missed in the afternoon. But instead, he releases her and goes back to his grooming. Moth frowns, watching as he rubs lotion on his skin. He has always been so aggressive in the months following their becoming official, something she both relishes and laments, always feeling as though she is playing catch-up . . .

Yet for some reason, he has seemed more subdued in the past month. She refuses to believe he has met someone else, so what is it?

“Rossa,” she begins, and he glances at her over his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course. In fact, I brought you a gift.”

She brightens. “A gift? From the demon realm?”

He nods as he finishes wiping the last of the water droplets from his chest. “Some oils I think you’ll like. You, uh . . . You wouldn’t happen to have the rest of the day free, would you?”

His grins holds a promise for more than just simple gift-giving, making her heart leap with excitement. “Let me send a note to the queen that I’m otherwise engaged,” she answers. “Then I’m all yours.”

He nods, and she dips out to find a piece of parchment and a quill. Once her message is finished, she rouses Nyos, ignoring his irritable squawking to tie the letter around his leg and urging him to take it to her mother. Then she undresses, carefully hanging her gown on the wardrobe door and pulling the pins from her hair, leaving her in only a slip as she returns to the washroom. Estarossa has already begun to fill the tub, and she watches as he sorts through a box of small bottles before selecting one, adding a good amount of the oil within to the steaming water. The scents of cloves and jasmine fill the air, and Moth breathes deeply, the tension draining from her shoulders. This is exactly what she has needed: time alone with him to relax, the unspoken promise of more hovering between them. She moves to inspect the other bottles with great interest as he adds more to the water, exclaiming quietly over the strange ingredients.

“I’ve never actually seen some of these,” she whispers, her fingers twitching as she draws one out to inhale the potent scent, and he chuckles.

“Leave it to you to be excited over some _ oils _of all things.” He plucks the bottle from her fingers, and she pouts as he puts it away. “I always forget, but you like this, don’t you? Seeing new things.”

Moth shoots him a good-natured look. “Who doesn’t?” she asks, carrying the box to the vanity and setting it carefully on the polished surface.

He pulls her back to the tub, grinning as he grazes his lips on hers and pushes her slip down her shoulders. “In you go.”

“You aren’t joining me?”

He smiles down at her, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, this is my gift to you.” When she tilts her head, he hoists her up, ignoring her startled shriek as he deposits her in the tub. “I’m not going anywhere, so relax.”

Moth nods. He turns away to the chest of towels, rummaging through as she sinks into the water. And, _ oh, _the pleasure of the steam and the oils is immediate, making her forget her mild disappointment and replacing it with a deep relaxation. She settles in, feeling every muscle relax as she leans her head back against the side. “This is amazing,” she sighs, hearing him give a small laugh.

“Demons are good for something, apparently,” he teases.

She hums, the heat making her eyes droop. She sways her hand through the water, making it ripple against her body, when suddenly she feels . . . _ something. _She lets go a little gasp as a delicious shiver rocks through her, her nipples growing hard despite the heat and her clit beginning to throb. Her eyes flicker to Estarossa, whose back is still turned to her as he carefully draws out her favorite towel, so she shifts to try to alleviate the sudden ache between her thighs. But that only makes it worse, somehow; the water against her skin is wonderful and teasing, the steam that fills her throat rich and enchanting. Should she ask him to leave so she can find some relief? Before she can decide, he returns, kneeling next to the tub and trailing his fingers through the water, which caresses her enticingly, and she bites her lip to keep herself from moaning. He cocks his head with a curious look on his face, his concern both genuine and false as he rests his chin on his palm.

“Is the water too warm?” he asks.

“No,” she says breathlessly. “It’s just . . .”

How to explain? If she tells him how aroused she is, he’ll certainly tease her, and despite the fact that there is nothing they haven’t shared physically, the idea of admitting it is embarrassing. Her face warms from the heat and the words _ I need to come _that are stuck in her throat. Moth swallows around them, trying to think of a way to ask without actually asking, but her mind is muddled and the ache between her legs is growing with every second, especially when her fingers dust against her thigh as they swirl the water. 

“You seem tense,” he murmurs. His hand slides along her waist, stroking her slowly, and she holds in a gasp because it feels so much _ better _than usual. “Do you need a massage?”

_ Yes. _“No, I’m okay, but thank you,” she whispers quickly.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, nearly a purr that sends a jolt of pleasure down her spine.

Estarossa stands and removes his pants, and Moth sinks into the water to keep her from seeing her mouth pop open at the sight of his cock. It’s not even hard, but she _ wants _it, wants him in her mouth, in her sex, his hands all over her. She watches him climb into the tub and thinks of how she wants to taste him all over, ride him, take him, possess him in a way she never could before, but she finds herself nearly paralyzed with her need. The ache turns sharper, insistent, as if something or someone is actually touching her. He grips her shoulder to pull her to him, and she whimpers at the press of his body to hers, his length rubbing her backside as he cradles her between his thighs. His knuckles graze her cheek when he adjusts her hair to expose her back, and when his thumbs press into her skin she moans, the slow drag sending a shock that is nearly painful along her spine.

“Are you sure you didn’t need this?” His mouth rubs along her ear as he speaks, making her shiver. “You’re shaking.”

“I, uh . . . Oh, gods . . .” She is going to come, she is sure of it, her clit pulsing in time to the way his thumbs drag the most exquisite circles under her shoulder blades. Moth whimpers, her head falling back as she tries to open her legs a bit, wondering if the movements of the water would be enough to push her over the edge. She can only imagine what her sex looks like, swollen and flushed, and the image of _ that _has her head rolling on his shoulder and her fingers digging sharply into his thighs.

Estarossa kisses her neck, his teeth teasing her flesh, and she jolts with a quiet cry. “Please! Please, I need you.”

“I’m here,” he replies gently.

“No.” She shakes her head, trying to turn and face him. But he holds her where she is, and she whines, her body aching. “I need to . . . I need you to . . .”

“You need me to leave?”

“No!” She bites her lip against his laugh, melting when he nips her softly. “Oh, oh, please . . .”

His hands rub her thighs. “I can’t do what you want unless you ask,” he murmurs into her ear.

Her face is absolute fire, but she can’t bring herself to say it. Instead, she grabs his hand and presses it between her legs, his warm fingers feeling like a burn against her needy sex. Immediately she lets go a cry at having _ something _to grind against, and she holds his hand steady as she slides her hood up and down his fingers, pushing two inside to stimulate her clit directly. He allows her to take her pleasure, merely cradling her throat against his shoulder. It’s another oddity, one that would worry her if she were not so lost to the friction against her pearl; he is never still when they are together, always drawing her pleasure from her in sharp waves with his hands or his mouth or his cock. Yet he does nothing as she rocks against his fingers except rub his cheek against hers, despite how she feels his length stiffening to prod against her thigh.

Her orgasm erupts in waves that have her shaking in his arms, the pleasure causing her to cry out in a scream that echoes against the tile. He kisses her temple as she bucks her hips on his hand, the water splashing around them as it goes on and on and on, and Moth doesn’t want it to end, even the ecstasy begins to turn painful. Somehow he knows when to draw his hand away, because if it was up to her, Moth would have remained captured there forever. Instead of the direct stimulation, he cups her sex so she can grind slowly against him and ride the end of her orgasm, leaving her a shuddering mess. 

“Feel better?” he asks.

Moth’s eyes snap open because realizes that, no, she doesn’t feel better at all; she feels as though she is just getting started. “Estarossa, please.” She turns her head to look up at him, finding him watching her, his eyes dark and hungry. “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Oh, Moth,” he sighs. “I wish I could. But if you want something from me, you’ll have to take it.” She lets go a growl as she spins, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she grabs at his cock. Her mouth crashes on his as Estarossa grabs her hips to steady her, even more water splashing on the floor as she does exactly that.

The sun is setting by the time they are down, and Moth watches the sky change color sleepily as she rests on her stomach, sighing when Estarossa presses against her and kisses her shoulder. “Are you okay now?” he laughs.

Her eyes close slowly as she nods. Her body aches from all they had done that afternoon, more sex in more positions in just a few hours than they usually have in a week. “I think . . . I’m finally good,” she murmurs.

“Good.” He is warm as he covers her like a blanket, and Moth snuggles back against him, smiling as he rubs his palm on her thigh. “I’m _ so _glad you liked my present.”

"Present?" Moth murmurs, and then she sucks in a breath. "The oils . . ."

His laugh has her growling, but she is too tired now to argue. "I'm going to get you back for this," she says.

"At least now you know how to get what you want," he replies. "No more playing shy with me."

She mumbles a curse into the pillow as she falls asleep, already planning her revenge on the demon.


	8. Give & Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kinktober Day 15:** Cuckholding  
**Prompt:** "I want to watch you."  
**Fandom:** Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins  
**Pairing:** Estarossa/Moth (OC), Mael/Moth (OC)  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:** Cuckholding, rough sex, dirty talk.  
**Co-writer:** lickitysplit  
**Note:** Kinktober ended two months ago, I know; while I did sit down and plan out the one-shots, October wound up being a far more hectic month than I thought it would be, and I wound up unable to finish. However, I'll be going through and writing them now, though some of them (like this one) might be out of order since I'll be working from inspiration and not strictly adhering to each day. I hope you enjoy!

_I could get used to this. _

That’s the only thought on her mind as she dozes, the warmth of Mael a blanket at her back and his seed drying on her thighs. What they’re doing is suicide, she knows, but that hasn’t stopped them from setting up meetings in taverns and bars and out of the way places where they won’t be recognized, spending hours curled around each other; the sex is wonderful and fantastic and perhaps the best she’s had in her life, but underneath that is a simmering otherness that she cannot name, one that makes the sleepy chatter afterward not only bearable, but anticipated. Demons do not love. That fact is well established. They may stay with a suitable mate for a time, but they do not love, they do not care. And yet . . .

Mael presses his mouth to her shoulder, his kiss hot and with the hint of teeth, and she murmurs, “I need to leave soon, or I’ll be missed.”

“Will you?” he chuckles. His tongue slides down her neck, making her shiver. “What about me? What if I’ve missed you?”

Moth huffs, even as she leans into him. “You’ve had enough.”

“Never.” She sighs as he kisses her throat, his hands beginning to trace the curve of her body. Moth is debating how soon she _actually_ has to leave when he murmurs in her ear, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mm.” She rolls over to face him, leaning up to nip his jaw. He tastes sweet and clean, and she wonders, as she always does, if that’s just him or something shared by his race. “What’s on your mind?”

Instead of answering, he kisses her, sucking on her lips before rolling his tongue slowly over hers, only pulling away when she is breathless. Then he smiles, the expression lazy and warm. “I’ve been thinking about you lately. More specifically, watching you.”

“Watching me?” When he arches a brow, she huffs. “Spit it out, goddess.”

“Watching you with someone else.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Moth frowns.

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me. About your time during the demon mating.” Her eyes widen slightly as he draws closer, a slight blush to his face as he adjusts to press against her. “I can’t get the images out of my head. I want to watch you be with someone else.”

She gives a humorless laugh. “And have everyone find out about this? If you want to die that badly, goddess, I’ll just cut your head off and save us the trouble.”

“No one has to know.” He lifts his head to peer down at her, and she’s reminded how guileless goddesses can be, the innate belief in themselves and their rightness that borders on arrogance when it isn’t lethal.

“Who would you ask? One of _yours_ would no doubt run off to your brother or your queen with a tale of your corruption by a demon, and my head would be on the line. One of _mine_ would go to the king, and both of us would be hunted. A human would be useless, and I have no interest in giants or fairies.” He frowns at her, and she sighs and rolls onto her back to push herself up. “It won’t work.”

Mael curls a hand around her arm, keeping her from leaving the bed. “It would,” he argues. “Not everyone would give us away. You’ve said before that demons are always trying to usurp power from each other. Isn’t there one you could use that idea with to persuade them to join us?”

Moth shakes her head. “Why do you want this so badly?”

“Because you are so fucking sexy I can’t stand it,” he grins.

Her mouth twists into a small smile. “I don’t know if it’s possible. And I don’t know if you really know what you’re asking for.”

“I won’t be jealous,” Mael murmurs. He presses his lips to her neck. “I just want to watch you come undone. I want to see you lose yourself in ecstasy.” He trails his tongue along the hollow of her throat as she stares at the ceiling. “Isn’t there anyone you know who hates the Demon King more than he hates an Archangel?”

“Oh,” she whispers. She yanks away, whipping to face him, and Mael lets out a rather undignified yelp when she pushes him down to straddle him. “I do! But you probably aren’t going to be pleased. Estarossa the Love.”

“Estarossa?” He frowns. “He’s the king’s son!”

“Yeah, and he fucking hates his guts,” Moth laughs. She leans forward and brushes her lips on his cheek. “Does he make you nervous?”

Mael gives a low hum as his hands settle on her hips. “I wouldn’t say nervous, but why him?”

“He fits the need,” she replies. “One, he’s the only person I can think of who hates the king enough that he’d find spending time with an Archangel amusing instead of insulting, though he might use it for blackmail later. Two, he’d agree on principle alone, because he likes sex and doesn’t particularly care who it’s with or in front of. Three, there’s no threat of any sort of nonsense, because I’m pretty sure he comes as close to hatred as he can with me.”

He presses his lips together. “Are you sure about this? You seem … Well, I expected you to say no.”

“Do you want me to say no?” Moth deadpans.

“No.”

“Good. I’m not playing games with you, goddess.” She plants a kiss on his cheek. “It’s just sex. If you want to watch, then watch.”

* * *

Asking Estarossa to join in on a tryst had gone far better than she’d expected. Despite her reassurances to Mael, Moth had been well aware that Estarossa could have, out of ambition, turned her in to Meliodas. Instead, he had nearly laughed himself sick before agreeing, telling her to merely inform him where he needed to be and when before heading off to do whatever it is he does in his free time. Now, as the two of them wait in the inn Mael had arranged for, he seems entirely at home, lounging on the bed in a loose shirt and form-fitting pants, sipping slowly from a glass of whiskey.

“He’s late,” Estarossa remarks with a grin, and Moth shoots him a look. “Maybe he decided he doesn’t want to watch you take my cock after all.”

“Are you going to behave yourself, or do I have to strangle you?” she asks, folding her arms.

He puts on an expression of mock surprise. “Moth, I am always a gentleman.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’ve all seen what you like to do in your spare time. So just watch yourself. Mael won’t put up with you being a dick.”

“So he wants to see my dick, but he won’t put up with me being one?” Estarossa laughs. “Are you sure he wants to watch you and not me?”

Moth makes a face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why not do a bit of practice?” he says, his voice turning silky. She watches as he presses his palm over his crotch and gives himself a rub. “He won’t mind if we get warmed up, will he?”

“He will.” Mael closes the door behind him, shedding his travelling cloak to drape it over the arm of a nearby chair. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re here for one purpose and one purpose only.”

Estarossa sighs. “Yes, yes, fuck her so you can get off.”

“You make it sound so vulgar.” He moves to Moth and pulls her into an embrace, bending slightly to kiss her soundly. “Was he annoying you? I could just kill him.”

“Maybe after,” she murmurs.

Behind them, Estarossa groans. “I can hear you, you know. And don’t tell me you two are in love. Disgusting.”

Moth turns to face him, and he meets her gaze evenly, the corner of his mouth curling upwards as their magic weaves around them both. Only Mael’s arm winding over her waist keeps her from seeing which of them is stronger, and she glances up to find him watching the demon on the bed reproachfully. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, though I’m not surprised you’d fall prey to it.”

Estarossa lets go a loud laugh. “It’s just a joke. I think it’s wonderful you two have … found each other.” He grins after swallowing the last of his drink, setting the glass down on the table and rubbing his hands. “Now then! Are you ready to fuck? Because I sure am. It’s been hours.”

“Before you get too eager, know that I’ll be dictating what does and does not happen.” Moth glances at Mael in surprise, but he keeps his gaze on Estarossa. “If I tell you to stop, or Moth does, you will.”

“Yes, yes,” he says, rolling his eyes as he waves his hand around. “It’s not fun if they aren’t enjoying it, anyway.”

Moth grits her teeth, annoyed already by his callousness. She isn’t afraid at all — if Estarossa did get it into his thick skull to try to hurt her, he’d be in for a surprise and for both of them to kill him — but she doesn’t want this ruined for Mael. “Estarossa, if you try anything —”

“Ugh, you’re going to bore me to death,” he groans. Then he flashes Mael a look. “What do you want first? Let’s get on with it.”

Mael’s grip tightens on her for a moment before he gives her a nudge towards the bed. “Both of you undress,” he orders, his voice tight with barely concealed irritation. “Then you can put your mouth to better uses.”

Estarossa laughs at that, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. Despite his arrogance, Moth begrudgingly admits to herself that he is attractive, broader in build than Mael with a few silver scars crossing his tanned skin and a smattering of hair across his chest. She mimics him, sliding off her tunic and leggings, and when she straightens she catches sight of his cock and a flush of heat curls through her.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen one this big, hm?”

“Oh, shut up,” she snaps. Moth slides up on the bed, pushing back to lay on the pillows. She angles herself so that she can see Mael, who is sitting on an overstuffed chair in the corner. There is very little moonlight, but a lamp by the door makes enough light to see, as well as the little fire in the hearth in the corner. “Is this okay?” she asks him.

“Perfect,” Mael says.

She nods and turns back to Estarossa. He is staring at her body, stroking himself, and she shifts on the mattress to spread her legs. “Come here and do what he says,” she tells him, and Estarossa licks his lips as he crawls onto the bed.

He grips her thighs, lifting them up and apart, and she lets the quiet anticipation of what’s to come fill her. “Wouldn’t want him to miss the show, would we?”

Moth sinks back into the pillows as his lips brush her mound, leaving a kiss that is almost sweet. She looks over at Mael and smiles, enjoying his eyes on her, already hungry and filled with lust. This will be incredible, she is sure: Estarossa is well-known for his skill in bed, Mael will enjoy this, and she’ll get the attentions of two incredibly hot and sexy men.

Estarossa’s lips whisper down her sex, and she tilts up slightly in offering as he parts her hood with his fingers to expose her clit. He will tease her, she’s sure, drawing pleasure from her until it crashes through her in waves. Even if he makes her beg for it, she’ll do it for Mael, although she smiles to herself at the thought of grabbing him by the hair and riding his smug face.

What she is not prepared for is the sensation of magic against her skin as the demon wraps his lips around her, just a split second, and she orgasms. Moth cries out as the ecstasy ricochets through her sharp and unexpected, the contractions radiating from her clit making her give a strangled sob. He sucks on her clit as she claws the bedsheet and arches off the bed,the thoughts of how and magic overwhelmed by the stunning pulses of bliss.

But it is too fast too soon, and seconds later he moves his mouth downwards. The lack of sensation leaves her hot and unsatisfied, and she moans when his tongue parts her sensitive folds.

“Moth?” Mael asks, and she groans in answer.

“You taste delicious,” Estarossa says, lapping at her opening.

“How did you . . . gods . . .” Another is forming hard and fast, her clit aching. She rocks her hips against his face, which he obliges with the flat of his tongue. He allows her to grind against the wet muscle until she is panting, and then Estarossa pulls her thigh over his shoulder and pulls her sex open to flick his tongue inside of her.

“Make as much noise as you want,” Mael says. “I want to hear how it feels.”

Estarossa thrusts his tongue inside of her tunnel, fucking her with it, magic whispering once more over her skin, and her orgasm crests just as fiercely as the first as she cries out, tangling her fingers in his messy locks. She forgets about Mael, and the reason they are here, losing herself to the rush of bliss and the mouth that works leisurely against her core and the firm grip on her skin. Estarossa laughs as he tilts up to kiss her pulsing clit, earning a muffled whimper that would usually embarrass her. “Eager thing,” he chides her.

“How are you doing that?” she demands breathlessly. Moth tries to read his magic, but it’s so faint it is barely there. Surely he can’t be this good on his own?

“Mm, you like this, do you?” he murmurs. His tongue laps her slowly, almost guiding her through the aftershocks of pleasure. She sinks into it like a warm bath, her free leg falling open to give him all of her to explore.

Then his mouth moves lower to kiss along her slit, his tongue teasing her lower walls. It keeps her dancing the edge of more pleasure, and she glances over at Mael. He is watching intently, his face expressionless, as if he is reading some piece of information or listening to a boring story. But his eyes are bright in their intensity, and when his tongue moves back to her clit she groans out loud, wanting him to hear how good it is, her fingers curling again when he begins to lick her pearl.

The way Estarossa savors her now leaves her with the foggy impression that those two shattering orgasms had been a glimpse of what is to come, almost as though he was warning her. But she knows the idea is ludicrous; he might have claimed that sex is only fun if both parties enjoy it, but Estarossa the Love knows nothing of it. He would not care if he overwhelmed her. In fact, he’d more than likely enjoy it. But for now, at least, his tongue is slow and steady as he laps at her body, the pleasure he gives her gentle in contrast to the earlier frenzy.

She reaches down to card her fingers through his hair. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, and he obeys, his tongue rubbing steadily against her as she begins to climb.

“You look amazing,” Mael says.

His voice startles her; Moth had almost forgotten he was there! She turns to look at him and he is watching her almost reverently. He sits a bit slouched in his chair, his erection obvious beneath his pants, and Moth smiles weakly just as Estarossa hits a spot inside her body that has her moaning. This is for him, she has to remember that, but Estarossa is making it so hard to focus on giving Mael a show because all she wants is more of the demon.

“That’s enough,” Mael says, his voice quiet yet firm, and Estarossa gives her one last, lingering stroke before climbing over her. His mouth presses to her hip, the curve of her breast, the underside of her jaw, but when he tries to kiss her, Mael calls out, “No.”

Estarossa freezes and looks over at him. “What?”

“Not on the mouth.” Mael’s expression is firm when he looks back and forth between them. “You can kiss her anywhere else.”

Moth frowns, wondering where that came from. He just gave her three orgasms with his mouth, but they can’t kiss? A not-so-small part of her itches to grab Estarossa and pull him into a kiss, just to prove to them both she won’t be ordered around. But before she can, Estarossa shrugs. “Your show, fuckface.”

The demon presses his mouth to her neck, sucking on her skin sharply, and Moth gasps. Her leg slides down his shoulder and he hooks it with his elbow, pressing her back and open. “Can I fuck her now, your majesty?” Estarossa calls over.

She feels a low simmer of irritation as Mael tilts his head. Probably at both of them — Estarossa for being a smug bastard and Mael for that inane command — and beneath that is a craving for Estarossa that takes her by surprise. So when Mael says, “Go ahead,” she relaxes back into the bed, her skin tingling with anticipation.

Moth feels Estarossa grin against her shoulder as he slides up on his knees. The thick head of his cock presses against her sex, and she lifts her chin, stretching back to wait for him. He grinds against her, the length slipping along her folds, and she shivers. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers in her ear, so only she can hear.

“This isn’t for you,” she murmurs back. Then Moth digs her heel into his thigh. “Do it.”

“With pleasure.” Before she can snap at him, he tilts his body forward so the first few inches of his cock press within her, and she lets out a moan at the pleasant stretch of it.

He pauses there to mouth down her chest, rolling his tongue around her nipple before drawing it into his mouth. She arches into him, feeding him her body, one hand grabbing his hair to hold him steady. 

“Moth.”

Her eyes snap over to Mael, who is now leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. It is so strange to see him watching, thrilling in a way she didn’t expect, the desire to please him surging up as she tugs on Estarossa’s hair. “More,” she growls out, her free hand clawing at his back, and as her gaze stays locked with Mael, the demon sheathes his cock inside her.

Her moan mingles with Estarossa’s in a sound that is more erotic than she ever imagined it would be. He draws out so his cock barely touches her before filling her again, pausing with their hips flush together to grind against her, and she keens low in her throat at the press of his body against her throbbing clit.

Moth sighs, her voice tight as he starts to move again. This isn’t the first time she’s been watched during sex — the demon mating time is rife with orgies and public sex — but Mael’s gaze is so intense she feels trapped by it, so much so that it is hard to remember it isn’t him moving his cock in and out of her body.

Estarossa pants against her cheek as he keeps his movements slow and deliberate. It feels almost intimate, and it would be if she wasn’t staring at Mael watching her in turn. Every time she wonders what’s he’s thinking, if he’s pleased, it is immediately chased by a defiant thought of why do you care, and then scattered by the thick organ pulsing inside of her. Finally it proves to be too much and she closes her eyes, deciding to enjoy the sensations while she can, until her next orgasm shatters her into pieces.

Estarossa’s breath is hot against her ear when he presses his lips to the shell of it. “I’ve watched you for so long,” he murmurs. There’s nothing affectionate to it, only something dark beneath his voice that makes her skin prickle, and his hand curls over her hip possessively. “I was so . . . Disappointed when you chose Melascula for you partner. And now a goddess?” He clicks his tongue. “Tell me, is my cock better than his?”

“Shut up,” she mutters.

“The answer must be yes then . . .” He lets out a little noise as he thrusts inside of her. “I always knew I could fuck better than a damn goddess.”

“Shut up,” Moth says through gritted teeth.

Her words turn into a gasp when he bites her earlobe. “The more you protest . . . the more I know the truth . . ." He licks her neck in a way that sends her shuddering in a mix of pleasure and disgust. 

She knows what he wants. Sex and violence are intrinsically linked for their clan, and mating between warriors usually culminates in a hunt that ends when the one who’s captured bares their throat in submission to their pursuer. So the more she struggles, the more those deep instincts will rise to the surface; yet not struggling will also bring them out. Moth digs her nails into his back, and his groan and the sharp way he fills her confirms it. To him, this is a hunt.

The next few minutes go by with the same slow pace, the same agonizing climb. No matter what she does, Estarossa won’t move, won’t give her the right kind of friction. Her body is becoming sensitive, and she hates every moan that escapes her, every movement, because it only feeds into his ego and spurs this game he wants to play.

Finally she’s had enough. Damn Mael, damn Estarossa, she wants what she wants now. She waits until Estarossa drags his cock back to push on his thighs, flipping him off of her and onto his back. Moth scrambles up to her knees, ignoring his glower. “Shut the fuck up,” she orders before he can say anything, and then climbs backwards on his lap, leaning forward and grabbing his thighs so she can lower herself onto his cock.

His hands grip her hips, his fingers almost bruisingly tight on her skin as she begins to ride him. Instead of trying to control her, however, he merely uses his hold on her to make every downward roll of her body more forceful, so that he is almost yanking her onto his cock. “Moth,” Mael calls, and she tilts her head to look at him, finding him gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white, his eyes blazing as he drags them along her body. “I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

She bares her teeth, and behind her Estarossa laughs. “Did you really think you could control her?”

“Both of you shut up.” Moth closes her eyes and focuses solely on fucking him, ignoring Estarossa’s laugh and the sharp hiss from Mael, digging her nails into the demon’s legs to keep him steady as she rides him. Estarossa is still meeting her movements and the slap of their bodies echoes in the room. Her head hangs forward, her hair falling in waves as she begins to lose herself in the orgasm brewing deep inside her core.

“Moth.”

“Fuck . . .” she pants, uncaring of who spoke. She’s so close, why won’t they just shut up? A hand touches her cheek and she flinches. 

She opens her eyes, nearly jumping to find Mael so close, and he smothers her next protest with a furious, heated kiss, one of his hands tangling in her locks while the other dips between her legs to grind against her clit. She comes with a cry that he swallows, unable to pull away from him as Estarossa uses the lapse to wrest control away from her, thrusting into her sharply so her release coils into never-ending waves around the movements of his cock.

“Yes . . .” Estarossa groans as his hips batter against her at a furious pace. “Take it, take my cock, come on my cock just like that . . .”

She feels his release fill her, his seed hot and thick and making her slick as he slides in and out. Mael goes stiff against her at his vulgarity, but Moth grips his arm to keep him from moving, kissing him back roughly as Estarossa finally finishes with a long moan that is more laughter than anything.

There is no time to bask in the afterglow or ride through the way her limbs tremble. She can feel the tension that vibrates through Mael, tastes it in his kiss, so she draws away from them both. Climbing off of Estarossa’s lap, she turns to him, finding him watching her with a lazy sort of arrogance that would, under normal circumstances, make her blood boil. “Get out,” she tells him.

He grins, ignoring Mael as he stands. To her surprise, he starts to dress, his obedience so at odds with the way he’s looking at her that she wonders what he’s plotting. “But of course,” he says smoothly. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.” Then he laughs. “When you get bored of fucking a goddess, you know where to find me.”

Moth grits her teeth as he walks by her; then his arm shoots out and grabs her, pulling her against him and crushing his mouth to hers.

She yelps in surprise as his tongue plunges into her mouth, and she pushes him away with a curse before he can do anything else. Mael looks ready to kill him right then, but Estarossa winks before striding out the door.

Quickly she pushes it shut, locking it, her palms pressed to the wood as she gets her breath. One idiot is enough to handle at once, and Estarossa is infuriating enough for a whole army of demons. Behind her, the air is like electricity with Mael’s anger, and she turns to glower at him and his stupid, useless jealousy.

“Get on the bed,” she orders.

He glares back at her, his lips pressed thinly together. “Why?” he grits out. “So you can fuck me with his seed on your thighs?”

“You wanted this,” she hisses. He holds her gaze as she stalks towards him, and there’s the low thrill she feels before a good fight or a good fuck. “You told me to find someone, and I did. So you can shut the hell up and get on the fucking bed.”

“Moth —”

“Damn it, Mael!”

She doesn’t want to hurt him, but she is so angry now her magic is crackling under her skin. Without even thinking it shoves against him, and Mael stumbles. Quickly Moth pulls it back, but she pushes him as he regains his footing, and when he falls back on the bed she climbs over him.

She sits on his lap, pulling his trousers open. “You’re such a fucking prick,” she growls. “You wanted to watch me fuck him and now you’re angry? You’re going to get the fuck over it. Right now.”

“Moth —”

“Shut up, Mael!” She glares at him as she releases his cock, which stands stiff and flushed. Quickly she grabs him and starts to stroke, still fuming. “Just shut up.”

She doesn’t bother undressing him any more than she already has; leaving his shirt on and his trousers loose around his hips, she clambers over him and sheathes his cock within her in one stroke, hissing at the stimulation to her already overly sensitive body. Mael lets out a groan, but when he tries to grab her she catches his wrists and holds them to the bed. “No,” she growls. 

Staring down at him, she pumps her hips, enjoying the pleasure on his face that twists as he tries to keep from arguing back. 

Slowly Moth smiles, her eyes going hooded as she watches him. “There we are,” she murmurs, her voice coy and almost sweet if it wasn’t tipped with venom. “Doesn’t that feel good? Do you feel where he filled me up, my goddess?”

His eyes fly open, anger simmering within their depths, and she laughs. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To watch me fall apart as another fucked me?” Leaning down, she nips his lips in a gesture that is nearly playful. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“It was . . .” She doesn’t allow him to finish, instead covering his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply. Mael gives a choking sort of groan as she slides her tongue in and out of his mouth, mimicking the way her hips roll as she fucks him slowly. He tilts his face to kiss her back, rolling his tongue with hers, but does nothing else to slow her down or speed things up, his body tense under hers as he keeps himself still.

He lets her use his body to guide herself through another release before he finally begins to move, and their moans mingle together as he finds his own end in a way that is eerily similar to Estarossa. After, he cradles her to his chest, the intimacy odd yet not unwelcome, and she listens to his racing heart begin to slow as his cock softens within her, neither of them willing to break the physical connection. “Stay,” he murmurs when she eventually tries to get up. Moth looks up at him, but his eyes are closed as though he is dozing despite how his hands tighten against the small of her back, so she settles, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. _For now, at least,_ she thinks.


End file.
